


Vaillance

by mayisingtoyou



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Damen, Dragons, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Quests, enchanted forest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayisingtoyou/pseuds/mayisingtoyou
Summary: "What can I do to repay you?"Laurent stepped back in surprise. "I don't-""There must be something you want," the dragon said, his tail flicking lazily behind him."Besides a ride home, you mean?"The dragon gave him a long-suffering look. He and Laurent were surrounded by mountains of treasure— radiant gemstones, ornate spellbooks, ancient artifacts. There was the glint of Veretian weapons and the shine of Akielon armor. Coins of silver and gold pooled around his ankles.Laurent stared at the glimmering piles of precious things and felt empty."What I want can't be bought, not with diamonds and gold."—The year Laurent turned thirteen, his brother and a company of fifty men entered the dark woods and never left them. For years, Laurent had longed for answers, and Damen might just help him find them.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 101
Collections: Captive Prince Reverse Bang 2019





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here’s my contribution to the Capri Reverse Bang. This fic really has been a labor of love, and I’m so excited to share it with all of you! It is complete, and I’m aiming to post two chapters a day until its all uploaded. Please enjoy!

Laurent crouched beside the towering doors of the throne room, eavesdropping on a meeting he was pointedly not invited to. With his ear pressed against the polished wood, he strained to hear the muffled voices of his brother and uncle. Gathering information in Vere was not an easy task, and it was apparent that Auguste wouldn’t be making it any simpler. 

Surely, it could not be that difficult for him to have a conversation in one spot. It was hard to catch more than bits and pieces when Auguste insisted on moving about the room.

“-Another skirmish at the-” Laurent heard his uncle say before his voice once again faded out of hearing range. 

After another moment of lost conversation, Auguste asked, “Akielons or bandits?”

“Whether it was Akielons or bandits this time does not matter. We cannot continue to allow-”

Laurent frowned. _So,_ he thought, _that’s what this is about._ In hindsight, it did explain why he'd been barred from attending this meeting. Auguste refused to involve Laurent in matters of politics and war. Laurent was mature for his age, and he had valuable advice, but his brother's mind was made. 

"You shouldn't rush to get rid of your innocence," Auguste had told him. "There'll come a day when you will miss it."

Therefore, Laurent knew about as much as the common populace. In the past month alone, there had been several reports of unrest at the border— Veretian merchants stripped of their goods, defenseless towns pillaged, precious crops burned to the ground. With renewed interest, Laurent leaned back against the door. 

“You’re asking me to- ...for months,” Auguste said.

“What else would you have us do?” his uncle asked. “The people are demanding action. If we continue to do nothing, they will come to resent you. You must resume your duties at the border.”

Laurent closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Since their father’s death, Auguste had avoided leaving Laurent on his own for more than a few days at a time. A border campaign would mean he’d be gone for months. Without thought, Laurent burst into the throne room.

Auguste quickly hid his initial surprise with a stern look. "Laurent-"

"I'm going with you," Laurent said, hoping he sounded surer than he felt. "To Delfeur."

“No.” 

“Why not?” Laurent demanded. It was the perfect solution. If he rode with his brother to Delfeur, then neither of them would have to be alone. They could look out for each other. “I’m a better rider than most of your men.” 

"Skirmishes like this can be messy." At Laurent's startled look, Auguste added, "Not always, but sometimes there is no running away. You have to be able to fight, and you're just… too young."

He wasn’t. He’d be thirteen in the coming month. "I'm not a child. Were you not my age when you first served beside our father? I can fight well enough. You said so yourself at the training grounds today." 

“I said your skills were coming along well,” Auguste said, “not that you were ready.” 

“I’m not leaving you!”

"Enough!" Auguste said, and Laurent immediately fell silent. Auguste never raised his voice at him, ever. "You're staying, and that's final."

Laurent’s eyes stung with tears that he tried to hide. He lowered his eyes in deference, and his voice trembled when he said, “Yes, Auguste.” He slipped out of the throne room without waiting to be dismissed. 

It wasn’t until much later that Auguste found him hidden in a shadowed corner of his balcony. Laurent’s eyes were puffy and red. He turned his face away as his brother sat beside him. 

“Thought you’d be here,” Auguste said. 

Laurent turned his back to him, too. 

“If you think that the prospect of leaving you doesn’t hurt me, you’re wrong.” When Laurent kept silent, August sighed. “That’s alright. You don’t have to talk to me. I’ll just sit here.” 

True to his words, Auguste remained at his side, his broad back shielding Laurent from the wind. Laurent pretended he wasn’t there. The hurt that Laurent felt kept them quiet for a long time. Staring at the kingdom below them, Auguste finally said, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. It was wrong of me. Will you forgive me?”

The hurt inside him faltered and broke, like a flame at the first sign of rain. Slowly, Laurent nodded. He couldn't stay mad at him; Auguste was good and true. His apologies were never empty. This much, Laurent knew. He couldn't let him leave believing Laurent hated him.

“I forgive you,” Laurent told him. He prayed Auguste knew Laurent was true, too. 

Auguste smiled and brought him close for a hug. Laurent hid his face in his brother’s shoulder. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Laurent murmured. 

"As will I." He squeezed Laurent affectionately before he said, "Hey. I have something for you." Auguste grabbed a bundle wrapped in vibrant silks and offered it to Laurent.

“A gift?” Laurent asked curiously and accepted it. 

“I might not make it back in time for your birthday, but I wanted to make sure you had something from me. Open it.”

As a child, the presents he'd received from his father had been grandiose but impersonal. He had looked forward to Auguste's gifts, though. Somehow, his brother always knew what would bring Laurent the most happiness. With great care, Laurent unwrapped the present, the fabrics falling away to reveal a sword. There were intricate runes etched onto its sheath, and sapphires decorated the clean silver of its hilt. When he unsheathed it, he found the gleaming sword to be perfectly balanced, but heavy on his still too-fine wrists. His hold dipped slightly under its weight.

“You’ll grow into it. I hope,” Auguste teased. 

“It’s beautiful,” Laurent breathed. 

“Its name is Vaillance,” Auguste told him. At the mention of its name, light burst from the blade and caused Laurent to gasp. 

“It is magic!” Laurent cried in amazement.

Auguste smiled, mischievousness in his eyes. Magical items and talents were uncommon among humans. The possession of such talents and items weren’t outlawed in Vere, but it was unsightly for a Prince to wield them.

“That, it is,” Auguste said. 

“Where does it come from?”

“One can’t be too sure with these things,” Auguste said, “but I was told Vaillance was forged centuries ago by a blacksmith named Adelaide. Most of her town thought she wasn’t all human, but instead fathered by a creature of magic.”

Laurent gave him a skeptical look. “Who told you that?” he asked. He trusted his brother, of course, but those that sold magical items were often questionable sources. 

Auguste laughed and shook his head. “Forgive me, Laurent, but I am sworn to secrecy.” He reached for the sword. “It is capable of slaying all sorts of magical creatures. Though, as with all magic, there is a catch.” 

Laurent stared at him curiously. “What’s the catch?”

“According to legend, Vaillance was smelted with the lock of a unicorn’s mane.” 

Laurent's demeanor brightened. He adored horses, and myths involving unicorns were his favorite. "A unicorn's mane? Are they real? Have you ever seen one, Auguste?"

"Of course they're real, though I have never seen one. It might be too late for me," Auguste chuckled at that, though Laurent didn't understand what about it was funny. "Though perhaps you'll encounter one, someday," he continued.

To Laurent's surprise, Auguste then pressed the sword's sharpened edge against his hand, but where blood should have been drawn, there was only a faint trail of light.

“How-” Laurent started, his blue eyes wide with disbelief, but his brother merely said, “Because it derives its magic from a unicorn’s mane, Vaillance will not hurt a creature or person whose intentions are pure.”

Laurent smiled. He thought it was poetic— a sword capable of casting out darkness without the threat of it ever turning against the light. 

“Wield it and remember me,” Auguste said. “Though I might not be here in Arles, I will be with you wherever you may go.”

“Thank you, Auguste,” Laurent said, his heart brimming with love and affection. 

With a kind smile, Auguste returned Vaillance to its sheath and handed it to Laurent. “May it serve you well,” he said, “and may it protect you when I cannot.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins… 
> 
> For those of you who love Auguste as much as I do, I can’t say too much but just trust me on this one.

With the rising moon came the start of the evening's festivities. The Veretian nobility graced the gently lit court chamber, their mindless chatter spurred on by the steady flow of wine. There was no doubt that the celebration, held in honor of the Crown Prince's twentieth birthday, had been the result of months of careful, detailed planning. The extravagance of the banquet alone was reminiscent of the prosperous reign of King Aleron before misfortune befell him and his household. Fine and foreign delicacies had been imported from the neighboring countries of Akielos, Patras, and Vask, prepared by the best cooks in the country to specifically suit the Prince's tastes. To the courtiers, it was evident that the Regent still cared for his nephew, despite his shortcomings.

Whoever told the cook that calamari suited Laurent’s taste had obviously done so to spite him. 

His nerves were frayed, and his patience worn thin. Contrary to the courtiers' beliefs, his birthday celebration brought him no pleasure. It meant that there remained only a year before his ascension, and the scores of red tapestries on the walls were a deliberate reminder that he was on borrowed time. His uncle was no doubt becoming desperate, and a desperate man was hard to predict.

Laurent relied on what he knew— his uncle loved to exact his plans before an audience. He cast his eyes around the thronging court room. Needless to say, there was a large audience present. The threat could come from anywhere, and Laurent was on his own.

With sickening anticipation, he had managed through the reception with his reputation relatively intact. The banquet had been disagreeable but uneventful and ended with his stomach full of dread and not much else.

He ignored the entertainments that followed in favor of speaking with the surrounding courtiers. He accepted their congratulations with a gracious bow of his head, and attempted to shore up allegiance from those he believed would side him with, though the list was laughably short. It was amid a tolerable yet dry conversation with Berenger that Laurent noticed Nicaise's approach.

“Excuse me a moment,” Laurent said and went to meet him. 

“Your entertainment has me bored to death,” said Nicaise. 

“Well, what would you have me do, dance for you?”

“Like that would solve anything.”

Amusement tugged at the corner of Laurent's lips but did not lower his defenses. Though Laurent was determined to gain the boy's trust, Nicaise's affections were unreliable and would probably remain that way until Laurent rid them both of his uncle's influences. Were he to be honest, Laurent would say he did not like their odds.

“Surely, you didn’t come all this way to tell me this,” Laurent said. 

“And what if I did?” Nicaise said and raised his chin in defiance.

Laurent stared at him. His delicate features were clear of paint, and the clothes he wore were blue like the waters of the river Seraine.

Appearing annoyed, Nicaise thrust a golden circlet into Laurent's hands. There was a precious stone at its center, fire-orange, and radiating heat.

_Dragon’s breath._

He looked at Nicaise sharply— Nicaise could be cruel, but this was a line Laurent had thought he wouldn't cross.

“A present? How thoughtful,” Laurent said venomously. “I expect someone out there is missing their trinket.”

“They won’t miss it.”

Laurent resisted the urge to throw the circlet at his feet. 

The nervous flit of Nicaise’s eyes abated his anger. Laurent noticed the uneven rise of his chest and the pallor of his boyish face. He was afraid.

Nicaise’s clothes were blue, the color of Laurent’s banners. 

With urgency, Nicaise stepped close and said, “Laurent. You’re too soft. Don’t give him a reaction-”

“Nephew,” his uncle said and walked towards Laurent with outstretched arms. “There you are.” 

Years of restraint kept him from recoiling, though his heart pounded loudly in his chest. He stepped forward to hide Nicaise from his uncle’s sight, but the boy had already gone. 

“Here I am,” Laurent said and prayed he did not sound faint. 

Judging from the annoyed look he received, his distaste must’ve come across alright. 

“Let’s be civil tonight,” his uncle warned. “I have something for you.”

“You didn’t have to give me anything.”

“Nonsense. You’re almost of age. We should celebrate.” 

“Well, get on with it,” Laurent spat.

With a dangerous smile, his uncle made a sweeping gesture towards the balcony. 

His dread instantly turned to fear, sharp like the crest of a crashing wave. It was a trap. Laurent’s standing with the council was precarious. A mere misstep was enough to shake him from their good graces. Were that to happen, then his throne was as good as forfeit. 

Whatever was out there, it was meant to make him stumble.

He walked through the thronging crowd gathered near the balcony doors. The hushed, scandalized murmurs of the courtiers made him feel isolated. Was everyone aware of what was happening? His fingers gripped onto the circlet in his hand.

A servant opened the balcony doors, and everyone in attendance was silenced by the anguished cries of a great beast.

_Dragon’s breath._

The terrible sound made his hair stand on end. Summoning the rest of his courage, Laurent stepped onto the balcony—

_Do not give him a reaction._

—And felt the ground fall out from beneath his feet. 

Trapped in the gardens below stood dragon. Its black scales were iridescent and glistened like gemstones in the moonlight. Two gently glowing horns curled back from its massive head. Spines lined the length of its plate-armored back and stopped at its wickedly pointed, arrow-shaped tail. A metal muzzle was welded shut around the creature’s jaws to prevent it from raining down fire on the gardens. There were shackles on all four of its legs, and reinforced chains kept its curved wings secured to the ground. Its bonds were imbued with magic, identifiable by the faint light radiating off of them. There was no way they would’ve held otherwise. 

The dragon fought against its restraints violently, but its enraged thrashing did nothing but drain it of its energy. Based on its pained howls, it was evident the magic did much more than just hold. Whoever had cast these enchantments had wanted them to _hurt_. 

Dragons were the rarest of the magical races. The sight of one should have filled Laurent with awe and wonder, but instead, it only left a bitter taste on his tongue.

His uncle watched him with a fierce intensity.

“Was it him?” Laurent asked him. 

“Yes,” said his uncle. “This is the monster that slaughtered your brother.”

Laurent's expression remained neutral, though pain and anger burned hot in his chest. They heavy stares of his subjects, of the councilors, and of his uncle were the only things that kept him lucid. He was on trial, and they awaited his reaction.

Except his mind was clouded with grief, and he didn't know what to do. Did his uncle want him to avenge his brother, or would he paint Laurent as heartless for exacting his revenge on a mindless animal? Did he want Laurent to show the dragon mercy, or would he instead label him a traitor for letting the prince-killer fly free?

“What will you have us do with it? Kill it?” his uncle asked. 

He didn’t know. Any choice could mean the end of his reign, but none of them would bring Auguste back. 

He needed time to grieve and collect his thoughts, but Laurent was good at buying time. 

“No,” Laurent said. Then, after a pause, “Lock it in the caverns north of the castle. There are much worse things than death.”

* * *

Although his chambers were quiet, and the dragon was long gone, Laurent swore he could hear its cries ringing in his ears, and when he closed his eyes, the terrible sight of it was there, seared behind his eyelids. For years, he had searched tirelessly for something to blame, for a reason why his life had turned out so wrong. And now he had one. 

Come morning, he’d be pressed for a decision regarding the dragon’s fate. News of its capture wouldn’t take long to spread through all of Vere, and the pressure on him would only grow. 

Laurent did not want to wait 'till morning. The longer he did nothing, the more his anger festered. His life had fallen apart the moment his brother had disappeared, and the monster responsible for it was sleeping a mere walk away. Laurent knew he didn't have much time left. One year and the wolves were closing in.

If he was destined to make a wrong choice, then let it be this one. 

Rising from his bed, Laurent changed into his riding leathers. It was a far cry from armor, but the leathers were sturdier than his sleep shirt. His eyes drifted to a chest at the foot of his bed. Within it, he had stored what few precious things he'd taken from Auguste's rooms before they'd been cleared out. It had remained unopened for years, the memories too painful to face, but the chest now held something he needed.

With a moment’s hesitation, Laurent reached inside it and grabbed his sword. The cloth it was wrapped in was faded and worn, the once-soft fabric now rough beneath his fingertips. Brushing it aside, he leaned forward and blew the dust off the sword’s surface. It had never been tested in battle, but tonight, that would change. 

He found a rope he had stashed for occasions such as this and secured it to his bedpost, tossing the other end of it out his window. He very well couldn't take the stairs. With his luck, someone would spot him, and he'd be ratted out to his uncle. That and Jord was posted outside his door tonight. No doubt, he would try to discourage him, and Laurent was in no mood for conversation.

Testing the rope with a hard tug, he climbed out the window. Laurent landed on the battlement below, his feet feather-soft. He crept along the parapets, careful not to alert the palace guards, and navigated towards the northern side of the castle. He waited for a break in the guards’ rounds before he started the climb down. It went rather well, save for the loose stone that had clearly been bent on killing him. 

With his feet on solid ground, Laurent hurried to the northern caverns. Before the palace crypts had been built, Veretian monarchs used the caverns as royal burial sites, but they had long since remained empty. Until now. 

He paused at the mouth of the largest cave. A cold draft swept through the thin fabric of his clothes, chilling him to the bone. If he was going to turn back, now would be the time. 

Instead, he pressed onward. He ventured deep into the cave, though the pale moonlight did little to illuminate his path. There came the point where there was very little light at all.

A snarl reverberated through the cavern. Laurent stilled as shadows uncoiled themselves in front of him, accompanied by the rattling of chains. The sight instilled a child-like fear in him, the same fear he felt during summer storms when the flash of lightning turned the shadows of his room into monstrous teeth and claws. Except, these weren't just shadows. He drew his sword from its sheath.

"Vaillance," he said. Light sputtered from its blade before it caught ablaze, casting a brilliant golden light across the chamber.

There, mere paces from Laurent, stood his brother's killer. Tendrils of smoke coiled from his nostrils and Laurent knew it was only the magic imbued in its chains that kept the dragon's fire at bay. Its sheer size left him breathless. As he stared up at the monster, Laurent felt like the child who'd trembled underneath his uncle's shadow.

But he wasn't a child, and he was no longer defenseless. With this monster, it'd be different. Laurent was the one who would come out on top. As he raised his sword to exact his revenge, he met the dragon's eyes, and his body froze, his blade a breath's away from tearing into its throat.

There…

There was something in the dragon's eyes— fear and anger, yes, but there was something else, an understanding unlike any Laurent had ever seen. He stared at the dragon, and through the haze of his hatred, he saw a reflection of himself. Laurent, too, understood what it felt like to be captive. He'd been a captive all of his life.

Laurent ducked underneath the dragon's belly. He gripped the hilt of his sword, and when he brought it down, it wasn't on the delicate flesh of its stomach, but rather on the chains that held its tail prisoner.

Vaillance burned hot like ember, and the chains shattered underneath its force. The dragon ripped its tail from Laurent, and it was only quick thinking that told him to duck when the dragon whipped it back towards him. He dove out of its way and towards the relative safety of the creature's belly.

He had to be careful about this. Free the dragon too carelessly, and Laurent wouldn't have the chance to escape.

Laurent destroyed the shackles on its rear legs, narrowly avoiding being gutted by the creature's talons. The dragon's wings beat furiously as he ran beneath them to free his front legs. One set of chains remained: the ones connected to its muzzle. Laurent's pulse raced as he heard them straining from where they were attached to the cave wall. With a final breath, he swung upward, and his blade sliced through the dragon's muzzle.

The dragon reared back, and Laurent extinguished the light from his sword, casting them both into darkness.

Laurent searched desperately for some crevice to hide in. He could hear its rattling breaths, which carried the acrid smell of smoke. There came a gust of wind at the mighty beat of its wings, and the cavern floor trembled beneath his feet.

 _Leave,_ Laurent pleaded. _Go, you brute!_

For a moment, there was silence. 

And when Laurent caught sight of an arrow-shaped tail rushing towards him, it was already too late.


	3. Chapter 3

The world came back to him in pieces, starting with a throbbing pain at his temple. A soft groan escaped his lips, and with considerable effort, he managed to roll himself onto his back. He opened his eyes and stared at the strange rock formations above him. _Stalagmite_ , his brain provided, though it didn’t offer much else. His brow felt sticky and warm, and when Laurent reached up to touch it, his fingers came back red. 

“Wonderful,” he said. Laurent dropped his hand and didn’t move for a long time. He dreamed of terrible things— the gleam of an eagle’s talons, the beat of a bat’s wing, the touch of a serpent’s scales. 

He woke with a start, but the cave he found himself in was empty. There was no telling how long he'd been asleep, but Laurent found some of his strength had returned. Carefully, he stood and glanced around. These distinctly weren't the caves he remembered. There were torches on the cave's wall, their fire casting long shadows across the room.

"Where am I?" he murmured. His memory came to him then. He remembered a heavy weight colliding with his chest, and his head striking against the unforgiving ground. He recalled talons tightening around his torso and then the harrowing feeling of being lifted up, higher than he'd ever been before.

The dragon, it _took_ him.

Were that not bad enough, the cave was _empty_. Vaillance was gone. 

Laurent cursed under his breath and fought to breathe through his rising panic. Succumbing to fear would do him no good, and through years of practiced discipline, he quieted his mind and assessed the situation. Assuming the dragon wasn’t somewhere in this cave system, Laurent knew it was bound to come back for him, and his fighting odds weren’t great. He was hurt, and his sword, the most precious thing he owned, had been stolen from him. 

The thought of abandoning Vaillance to the beast hurt, but there was no time to search for it, not if Laurent wanted to escape with his life. He had to find a way out. Fast. 

_Perhaps I’ll stumble upon it_ , Laurent thought to himself and pretended the hope was enough. 

Laurent fled the chamber. Though he moved quickly, the cave system was hard to navigate. One cave branched into three, and he found himself having to choose directions at random. He came to a dead-end more than once, and on other times, he entered caves that looked suspiciously like ones he'd walked through only minutes before. Just as he was beginning to think he was lost, Laurent stumbled upon a tunnel that was noticeably brighter than the others. The sight was a welcome one; it meant the exit was close. Sure enough, the mouth of the cave wasn't far up ahead. Relieved, he broke into a run.

And stopped just in time, his feet sending rocks skittering off the edge of a steep cliff. The opening of the cave was on the side of a mountain, several hundred feet off the ground.

"Fuck," Laurent said, grasping onto the mountainside. The mere act of peering over the edge filled him with vertigo. There was no way down. He was trapped. Panic rose up in him again, and this time, it was much harder to control. He slumped against the wall and sifted through his options, which weren't many.

He would head back inside and search for his sword. There was nothing else to do. 

With a decisive breath, Laurent doubled back. His second time wandering through the caves wasn't any less confusing, but he eventually came upon a tunnel that widened into a vast chamber. He stopped at the entrance of it, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

Because he had found the dragon's hoard, and it put Vere's treasury to shame. The room was an ocean of wealth; heaping piles of coins and jewels and crystals, stacked so high Laurent had to tilt his head back to look at them. There were other items, too, of the magical variety. Wands and spellbooks and rings and potions. And there were weapons.

_Vaillance_ , Laurent thought. _It must be here._

He didn’t dare move, for a second, but no one could fault him for hesitating. All the stories he’d read about people stealing from dragons, they never ended well. Not that his odds were appearing any better, but still. He’d have to hurry. 

With a desperate look in his eyes, Laurent started to dig through the hoard, trying to find the glimmer of sapphires or the glint of steel. Gold coins clinked loudly under his hand, the sifting coins revealing nothing but more useless treasure.

And that was how the dragon found him, with arms buried deep in a mountain of gold. 

“By all means, help yourself.”

Laurent froze. The voice belonged to a man, but something about it was off. It was in his head, he realized, clear as his own thoughts. He turned around slowly. 

The dragon stood at the entrance of the chamber, its tail lashing back and forth, the great expanse of the room dwarfed by the massive stretch of its, no, _his_ wings.

“You can speak,” said Laurent. 

“Surprising what one can do without a muzzle,” the dragon said. 

Laurent didn’t like the predatory look in his eyes. _He’s sentient_ , he thought to himself. That made things somewhat more complicated. 

He tried his best to sound unbothered when he asked, “Are you here to kill me?” Laurent loved talking in circles, but something told him now wasn’t the time. 

“I had half a mind to tear you apart in the caves,” the dragon snarled. 

“But you did not,” Laurent said, his eyes fixed on the dragon’s talons, which were nearly as long as his forearm. 

“I’m starting to regret it.”

“I did not send those men to capture you,” Laurent said. 

"You expect me to believe you?" the dragon said, with fangs bared. "How naive do you think I am? I leave you alone for more than five minutes and you try to steal from me."

Admittedly, yes, Laurent knew it hadn’t been a good idea, but he hadn’t been stealing. 

“I only searched for something to defend myself, if it came to that,” Laurent said. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen yourself, but I’m entirely outmatched.”

The dragon growled at him in response and started to stalk the outskirts of his hoard. "He admits to wanting to kill me," the creature said.

“No,” Laurent said. “I admit to wanting to protect myself. If I aimed to kill a dragon, I would have done it while you were in chains.”

“But you did not,” the dragon said mockingly, circling him, sizing him up. Laurent was careful not to turn his back on him. 

“No, I did not.”

"There are worse things than death," said the dragon.

Laurent's blood ran cold. He remembered the anger with which he had said those words. He couldn't say he enjoyed them quite as much when they were aimed at him.

“There are,” Laurent said slowly. _Too many to speak of_. “And being held somewhere against your will is one of them.”

The dragon lifted his head and stopped pacing, his dark eyes searching Laurent’s face. He stared at Laurent for a long time. 

Laurent wasn't sure what occurred between them, but the dragon must have seen something in him because his demeanor changed. His predatory stance eased, and his wings relaxed against his sides. There was something in his eyes, not quite pity, but more like empathy. Laurent couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him like that.

“You saved my life.” The dragon’s voice was softer, devoid of anger. Laurent was surprised to find it pleased him. “Thank you.”

Laurent turned his face away in embarrassment. 

“It was the right thing to do.” After a pause, he said, “Why did you take me?”

“I wanted revenge,” the dragon said.

Laurent knew how that felt. “And will you have it?”

The dragon settled on a mountain of treasure and regarded Laurent with interest. “I find that the urge has passed.”

“That’s reassuring,” Laurent said, and relaxed minutely. 

A moment of silence stretched out between them. Laurent felt awkward under the dragon’s intent stare, though the dragon’s eyes were not unkind. Their brown color was beautiful, like the bark of oak trees and rich Veretian soil.

“What can I do to repay you?” the dragon asked. 

Laurent stepped back in surprise. “I don’t-”

“There must be something you want,” the dragon said, his tail flicking lazily behind him. 

“Besides a ride home, you mean?”

The dragon gave him a long-suffering look. He and Laurent were surrounded by mountains of treasure— radiant gemstones, ornate spellbooks, ancient artifacts. There was the glint of Veretian weapons and the shine of Akielon armor. Coins of silver and gold pooled around his ankles.

Laurent stared at the glimmering piles of precious things and felt empty. 

“What I want can’t be bought, not with diamonds and gold.” 

The dragon looked at him, pensively. "What is it you want?" he asked. "Perhaps I can acquire it."

Laurent’s vision blurred with his grief. Though it was unlike him, Laurent felt compelled to tell him what no one else would hear.

“My brother,” he said. “He died when I was thirteen.”

He braced himself to hear the words, _I’m sorry_ , but the dragon only hummed sadly, resting his head on his paws. 

“I’m afraid death might be far beyond my magic’s reach,” the dragon said. 

Laurent nodded. He hadn't hoped as much.

“What happened to him?” the dragon asked, before softly adding, “You don’t have to tell me.”

The memory of it was painful. "His name was Auguste," Laurent said because it hurt the least. And then, "He left me to lead a campaign at the Veretian border. A month after he and his men reached Delfeur, Auguste changed their course and rode for Arles."

It was his uncle who had told him. Laurent still remembered the detached sound of his voice. He'd been naive enough to think it was a result of his grieving. But the Regent never grieved for Auguste, and he wouldn't grieve for Laurent.

"I don't know what caused him to give the order," Laurent continued, "Or why he was in such a hurry to return, but he decided to cut through the dark woods."

Laurent failed to understand why Auguste would ever do such a thing. The dark woods, which occupied the lands between Barbin and Chasteigne, were impassable, the last stronghold of what remained of the world’s magic.

"Those that enter seldom find their way out," Auguste had said. Why, then, had he risked everything?

"They awoke some terrible beast," Laurent said, "Like those from tales of old." His voice trembled as he said, "The monster rained fire on them... no one survived."

Laurent looked at the dragon, but if the creature had been there, he did not show it. 

Instead, the dragon said, “You don’t really seem like you believe that.”

Laurent raised his head, unnerved by the creature's perceptiveness.

“His body was never found.”

The dragon grimaced. 

“Don’t make that face, it’s morbid,” Laurent said. 

The dragon had enough decency to appear abashed, a quiet apology in his eyes. “Did no one ever search for him?”

“My uncle sent a searching party.” 

“This did not satisfy you,” the dragon said slowly. 

Laurent let out a dry laugh. “No. His men aren’t the most trustworthy. Or thorough.” 

The dragon accepted his explanation with relative ease. It was refreshing. “How come you’ve never gone in search of him?” he asked.

“My uncle forbid me. Beside him, I am the last of my line. He was… scared I’d meet the same fate as my brother.”

The dragon considered Laurent for a moment before he said, “I may not be able to return your brother to you, but I can help you find out what truly happened to him.”

For years, Laurent had longed for answers, and the dragon could help him find them. 

There were many reasons why he hadn’t ventured into the dark woods, his uncle’s wishes being the last among them. Those woods weren’t made for mortal men. They were rampant with enchantments and traps and creatures who desired the taste of human blood. Whatever Auguste’s reasons had been, Laurent knew he had made a mistake by entering them, and he wouldn’t want Laurent to do the same. Magic sword or not, Laurent wouldn’t make it far on his own. But with a dragon on his side, his odds were insurmountably higher. 

A tentative hope blossomed in Laurent’s chest, though it was tempered down by suspicion. The dragon had nothing to gain from this, and Laurent didn’t enjoy being toyed with. 

“You’ll remain only until your help isn’t needed,” Laurent said. 

“Yes,” the dragon said, though Laurent hadn’t been asking. “We should head out now, while the sun is still high in the sky.”

He remembered Vaillance then. "Not that I don't trust you," Laurent said, "But I'd like my sword."

The dragon stared at him for a moment, as if debating it. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to be completely defensive,” he chuckled in amusement, “and you are so small.” 

Laurent scowled at him and thought, _not this_. “I’m of average height.” 

The dragon laughed, a low rumbled that made Laurent flush. “I don’t doubt that you are,” the dragon said, nosing around the piles treasure until he uncovered Laurent's sword. “Here it is.”

Laurent picked it up more force than was necessary and returned it to his scabbard. 

“I’m sure you already know your way out, the dragon said. 

Laurent gave him a mocking smile and edged past him. With the dragon at his side, Laurent returned to the mouth of the cave. He heard the dragon shuffle behind him, and, for a moment, Laurent feared he'd be shoved off the edge of the cliff. But the dragon merely crouched and extended his wings.

Laurent scoffed and crossed his arms. “Are you expecting me to climb on?”

The dragon rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have pegged you for the mountain-climbing type. But, by all means.” 

He moved to stand, but stopped when Laurent said, “Wait.”

The dragon let out an amused huff. "I knew you'd change your mind."

“Shut up,” Laurent said. He grabbed onto one of the spines that ran along the length of the dragon’s back, his scales warm underneath Laurent’s palms. There was just enough space between the spines for him to sit. With some hesitation, Laurent hauled him himself up and settled atop him, the action familiar, though the dragon was by far the largest mount he’d ever ridden. He shifted slightly to better accommodate his weight. 

“The key is to maintain your balance,” the dragon said, helpfully. 

Laurent glared at him. “I’ve ridden bareback before,” he said. 

There was a pleased hum. “Mm… have you?’’

Laurent dug his heels painfully into his side. “Oh, will you just go?”

The dragon laughed and stretched out his wings, casting long shadows onto the mountainside. 

“I never caught your name,” the dragon said.

“Laurent," he said. “And yours?”

“Damianos,” said the dragon and then, “Well, Laurent. Hold on.” With a powerful stroke of his wings, the dragon took to the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I meant to have this chapter up much sooner, but real life got in the way. This chapter was really fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for being so patient!

Their ascent was harrowing, but their flight smoothened out once they breached the stratus clouds. Laurent’s thighs burned from gripping onto the dragon’s hide, and even though Damianos eased them into a gentle glide, Laurent was too scared to release his hold on the dragon’s spines.

The horizon lay open before them. The sky was clear and bright, the same deep blue as the Ellosean Sea. A field of clouds stretched out beneath them, marred only by the dragon’s shadow. The beauty of it stole Laurent’s breath away. Some time into their flight, a cloud floated over them lazily, and Laurent dared to reach for it, the white mist dissipating between his fingertips. 

“Incredible,” he murmured, and the laugh that followed it was lost to the surrounding winds. 

Damianos’ voice roused him from his reverie. “We’re nearing the dark woods.” 

His wonder faded at the dragon's words. With a grim nod, Laurent gripped onto his spines and shifted his weight forward as if preparing to break his horse into a gallop. Damianos tucked his wings against his sides and pitched downward.

The dark woods appeared ordinary from above, merely another stretch of Veretian wilderness. As Damianos circled over it, Laurent noticed a break in the trees, an area that was barren and scarred. 

“There,” he said. 

“Laurent, are you sure this is what you want?” Damianos asked. 

“Yes,” Laurent said, though he felt faint with dread. “I have to know what’s down there.”

The dragon spread his wings and landed in the clearing. Laurent dismounted, and he felt unsteady on his feet. 

Something terrible had happened here. The ground beneath Laurent's feet was charred, and the surrounding trees were skeletal and bare. In truth, there was no vegetation at all, nothing to offset the dark colors of burned earth and rock. The sharp scent of smoke and ash still lingered in the air.

The undergrowth hadn't grown back. In spite of the years, the clearing remained lifeless. Whatever fire consumed this forest must have been laced with magic. 

_Like dragon fire,_ he thought. 

Laurent took a hesitant step forward, and something snapped underfoot— it was a human bone.

There was a skeleton splayed at his feet. A caved-in skull grinned up at him with hollow eyes. Its flesh and skin had fallen victims to time; there only remained the shattered pieces of its armor and the singed remnants of its shield. Though the surface of it was darkened with ash and rust, Laurent recognized its Veretian insignia.

Nausea gripped his stomach. He hadn’t noticed them before, but as Laurent stared at the clearing with newfound horror, he saw the charred bones of more and more soldiers. Their swords and lances and shields were damaged and rusted. Fragments of armor were half-buried underneath ash and dust. The area was a graveyard, and yet the skeletons numbered too little. There were not fifty men here; the rest must have fallen prey to the monster’s fire and fangs. There couldn’t have been deserters among them. Laurent knew that the men in Auguste’s company had been loyal to a fault. Many of them had been part of the Prince’s Guard. 

He hadn't wanted to believe his uncle's men- he had had the most to gain from Auguste's death. Laurent had wished for there to be a fault in the Regent's story, but as he stared at the carnage before him, he thought that perhaps his uncle had told him the truth.

Laurent steadied himself against a blackened tree. “My brother,” he said, his voice sounding hollow to his ears, “I think he’s dead.”

The dragon appeared grim; he nudged Laurent's shoulder with his snout before he stalked to the opposite end of the clearing and left him to his grief. Laurent closed his eyes. Despite the many years he'd lived without his brother, he'd never once said those words out loud and meant them. His hope faltered now.

“What could have done this?” he asked once his hands stopped shaking. 

“I do not know,” Damianos said. He nosed a dented shield, careful not to crush the skeleton that laid beside it. The dragon’s nostrils flared. “There is magic here.”

“A dragon’s magic?”

“Maybe,” Damianos murmured. 

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I’m not,” the dragon admitted. He walked the length of the clearing, his reptilian eyes narrowed in confusion. “There aren’t many of my kind left.” 

Laurent raised his head. “How many others are there, exactly?” Everyone knew dragons were rare. That Auguste had met his end by one had been... strange, to say the least. 

“That I know of?” Damianos said. “One. My brother.” 

“Oh.” Laurent’s voice hardened. “Could he have done this?”

Damianos laughed dryly. “I doubt it.” The dragon's tail lashed with irritation. “He doesn’t live in these parts.” 

It appeared that Laurent had stumbled onto a sore subject. Delicately, he asked, “Doesn’t your brother have wings? Is it not possible he might have flown here?”

“From _Ios_?”

That was a bit far for a day trip. He hadn’t known Akielos had a dragon problem. 

"Trust me, he wouldn't want to show his face around here," Damianos growled. "Let's not talk about Kastor. There must be something here that can tell us what happened. Don't go anywhere," he said and disappeared into the surrounding woods.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Laurent said. Trust him to upset the first creature that had actually offered to help him. 

With Damianos gone, an eerie silence settled over the area, and Laurent found it hard to pretend he was unbothered by it. The absence of green, the discarded weapons, and the hollow-eyed stares of skulls left him deeply unsettled. _Any one of them could be Auguste_.

The thought made him sick, and so he stared resolutely at the ground and didn’t think much at all.

Minutes passed before he finally heard Damianos say, “Laurent. You need to come see this.”

His voice sounded different— louder and more tangible. _It's no longer in my head_ , Laurent realized and lifted his eyes.

A large man was standing at the edge of the clearing. He had the dark coloring of an Akielon, and he wore the garments of one, too. The white fabric of his chiton just barely brushed the top of his well-defined thighs. He had horns that curled from either side of his head, though they were partially obscured by his tousled curls. His face was boyish and handsome, and Laurent recognized the clarity in his eyes. Something warm and unfamiliar stirred in his chest, though he was sure it wasn't fear. Laurent wasn't the sort to be intimidated by larger men.

“Damianos?” he asked dumbly. 

The man smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “I thought this form would make it easier to explore the woods.”

Laurent was almost impressed. “I preferred it when you were a dragon.” 

“Why?” Damianos asked, feigning innocence. “Am I not as handsome?”

“Shut up.”

Damianos smiled, and Laurent inched past him with a wider breadth than was necessary.

“I should see what?” Laurent asked with some impatience. 

"Come on. It isn't far," the man said and guided him into the woods. "My friends call me Damen, by the way."

“Friends,” Laurent said slowly. “Is that what we are?”

Damianos— _Damen_ — glanced at him in amusement.

They walked for several minutes before they came upon what Damen had seen— a ring of tawny brown mushrooms, arranged in a perfect circle. Damen caught Laurent’s arm when he made to step near it. 

“Careful,” Damen warned. “Any mortal that enters there will be made to dance until he collapses from exhaustion.”

Laurent arched an eyebrow. He’d read of such things, as a child. “A fairy ring?”

“An old one.” Damen crouched beside the ring and stared at it. “They’re ill.”

Laurent took a tentative step closer, careful to remain on the outskirts of the ring. What Damen said was true. The mushrooms were covered in a white, webbed growth, and the affected fungi had developed a foul-smelling rot.

“I take it these aren’t a common occurrence,” Laurent said. 

Damen’s lip curled in distaste. “No. What one is doing this close from that clearing is beyond me.” 

Laurent stared at him for a moment. “You think they might know something.” 

“I think fairies have a habit of sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Much like humans, in that regard,” he softened the jab with a smile, but the effect was lessened by the wicked gleam of his fangs.

“Very mature,” Laurent scoffed. “Dare I say, we ask them.” 

Damen rolled his eyes and stood. He seemed less than pleased with the idea. Though he’d never admit it, Damen’s reaction made Laurent uneasy. _Were fairies that bad even a dragon didn’t want to deal with them?_

“Easier said than done. We could wander these woods forever before coming across one.”

“Damianos—” Laurent started, but then amended himself, “Damen, please. If there’s a chance they know something… There has to be a way to talk to them.” 

Damen averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t say I know where to find one,” he said reluctantly, “But I might know someone who does.”

“Thank you,” Laurent said, and meant it. 

Damen smiled in return. “If we leave now, we might make it there before sunset.” 

* * *

Laurent quickly came to understand why those who ventured into the dark woods seldom made it back out, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful Damen was with him. 

The sunlight appeared dappled as it filtered through the mossy branches of the trees overhead. Damen and Laurent tread on sun-warmed grass and wildflowers, and crossed river-fed streams. The scenery was overlaid with birdsong and the incessant buzzing of insects. Laurent thought the woods were beautiful. Everything was basked in an ethereal glow, and on multiple occasions, he found himself wondering whether he was truly awake. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

The rational part of his brain knew it was due to the woods' enchantments. Were he to have come here by himself, Laurent had no doubts that he might have never wanted to find his way out. Something like wanderlust tugged at his heartstrings and beckoned him to travel ever deeper into the forest, without direction, without a map, without hope of ever finding home.

When Laurent started to stray from the path, Damen caught him by the hand and gently said, “Laurent, there’s nothing out there for you. Eyes on me. I have what you need.”

Damen kept him grounded. Laurent ignored the lull of the woods and focused on the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the boyishness of his smile.

The weight of the woods’ enchantments eased when they reached a secluded grove, guarded on all sides by sturdy oak trees. Laurent’s head cleared upon entering it, but the absence of magic only left him irritated. The grove was empty. 

“Please tell me there’s an actual reason why you dragged me through the woods for hours.” 

Damen smiled at him. "Besides watching you stomp around the undergrowth, you mean?"

Laurent narrowed his eyes. “Of course. You never meant to help me,” he said, his emotions exhausted and his patience worn thin. “You just wanted to humiliate me.”

“Are all humans this distrustful, or is it just you?”

Before Laurent had the chance to reply, he heard the soft rustling of leaves, and then the delighted voice of a woman. 

“Damen!” she cried. 

Damen turned just in time to catch a young woman in his arms. Laurent had seen many beautiful girls in his lifetime, but she was unlike anything he’d ever seen. She had curls that were the color of freshly fallen snow, intricately braided with leaves and lilies. There was a greenish tint to her pale skin. Her features were pretty and delicate; her glowing eyes, too, were white, devoid of pupils and irises. She wore a dress of ivy and moss. Laurent had seen enough paintings of them to recognize her for what she was— a dryad. 

“Hey, Lykaios,” Damen said and returned her hug. 

Laurent stood awkwardly behind them. _So they were on a first-name basis,_ he thought.

“I hadn’t thought you’d come,” she said, then stepped back and noticed Laurent for the first time. The glow of her eyes intensified at the sight of him. Though it unnerved him, Laurent held her gaze. 

“You brought a mortal?” Lykaios asked. 

Damen’s eyes flickered between them. “Yes,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, he’s gorgeous, Damen! What’s his name?”

“It is Laurent. I can speak for myself,” Laurent said. 

“Forgive him, he’s had a long day,” Damen said, though Lykaios didn’t appear particularly bothered. “We’re actually here because I have something to ask of you.”

“You have to stay for tonight’s revel, the both of you,” the dryad said, completely ignoring Damen. “We rarely ever have such beautiful company. The others would love him.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Laurent said, “But we—”

“We would love to,” Damen cut him off with a sweet smile. 

Laurent stared at him with irritation and impatience. He hadn’t come here to mingle. 

Damen leaned down to whisper something in his ear. “Dryads are easily offended. If we humor them, they might tell us what we need to know. Trust me on this.” 

_How Veretian of them_ , thought Laurent. He turned to face Lykaios and offered her his most diplomatic smile. “It would be a pleasure.”

* * *

As darkness fell over the grove, it became illuminated by the warm light of fireflies. The other dryads left the safety of their wooden homes not long after sunset. Laurent thought they were strange and beautiful creatures, each adorned with the vines, leaves, and flowers of the trees in which they dwelled. The dryads welcomed Damen warmly, all appearing to be intimately familiar with him.

With the same fervor, the girls fawned over Laurent, too. 

“His hair is like gold,” said one. 

“His cheekbones are quite elfin,” another said. 

“His eyes are beautiful! They’re like sapphires.” 

He was starting to feel like a child being doted on by his mother. However, he knew that the dryads might have information to offer, and so he accepted their compliments with a sweet smile. 

Laurent was relieved to find that the dryad's revels were much tamer than the court dances he'd been forced to attend in the past. Some of the dryads were sitting on nearby rocks. They played sweet melodies on their lyres while others sang, their music soothing Laurent's frayed nerves. Their voices reminded him of wind and the bright sounds of rushing water.

Those that weren't playing music were dancing with one another. Laurent sat on one of the rocks and watched them with mild interest. Not many humans had ever seen a dryad, and none that he knew of had ever been invited to one of their revels, but his interest ended there. Though they were alluring, Laurent wasn't attracted to women.

He entertained himself by watching Damen dance. For a man his size, he was surprisingly graceful. Laurent made lists of everything he found pleasing about Damen. Laurent liked the way he laughed, with his head tossed back, the sound of his voice warm and deep. He liked it when Damen smiled at his dancing partners and made a dimple appear on his cheek. He liked how his expressions were open and honest, and so human they made Laurent forget himself.

He startled when one of the dryads grabbed his arm. 

“Dance with me, Laurent,” she pleaded, already dragging him towards the center of the grove. 

Laurent glanced at Damen for help, but the other man simply grinned at him, caught up in his own festivities. Not wanting to offend her, Laurent went. 

"The steps are easy, I promise," she told him, guiding his shaky hands to her waist.

"Right," Laurent said, and traced the path left by her steps, joining her in a simple dance. Years of practice meant he picked up the steps with ease. He was guided through to the final part of the dance before he turned into the arms of a new partner. Strong, masculine hands came to rest on his waist.

“Come here often?” Damen said. Laurent liked his smile infinitely more when it was directed at him. 

“Don’t step on my feet.” 

Damen laughed warmly and moved to the beat of the music. "I'm well-studied."

"For a dragon," Laurent said and matched his movements. Damen led him with ease, his dark eyes tracing the outlines of Laurent's face. His careful attention made Laurent feel exposed and nervous, and so he said very little, focusing instead on maintaining some semblance of rhythm. But the longer he danced, the harder it became to suppress his smile. His partner was light-footed and handsome, and dare he say, Laurent was starting to enjoy himself. Even dancing felt like a battle in Vere, but Damen made Laurent feel like his ally. There came the point when he didn't need to have his eyes open. Damen's hands were steady and sure as they led him, and he trusted him enough not to let Laurent lose his balance. He was utterly lost to it.

The moon was high in the sky when they tired and went to join the others where they sat on the ground. Laurent's legs ached with exhaustion, and his cheeks hurt from smiling. He collapsed beside Lykaios and tried to catch his breath.

She glanced at his face and smiled. “Had I not been watching you dance, I would’ve thought you and Damen had just finished doing something else entirely.”

Laurent flushed darkly, but Damen just laughed.

His eyelids heavy with sleep, Laurent listened to the dryads as they shared all the rumors and secrets they'd heard in their respective corners of the dark woods. Damen would comment every so often. He might've been different from them, but it was clear that the dryads valued his opinions and considered him to be one of their own.

Eventually, the conversation turned to what Damen had done in the days prior, and Laurent’s weariness abruptly faded. 

“I made the mistake of searching for food in the northern woods,” Damen said. “The hunt was bad, and so I settled in an empty cave to rest so that I could try again the next morning. That’s when I was ambushed by a group of men.” Damen rubbed at one of his wrists. “There was a warlock among them. He must have enchanted the chains they used to tie my wings and legs. I wasn’t strong enough to break free.”

The dryads sat up a little straighter. 

“Oh, Damen,” one of them whispered, touching his arm gently. The girls looked horrified, and they shifted closer to Damen and Laurent, either to protect the boys from some phantom danger or to hide from it themselves. 

“It’s alright,” Damen quieted them, though his eyes were haunted and dark. “It didn’t hurt that bad.”

Laurent turned his face away; that much was false. 

_He’s lying to comfort them,_ Laurent realized. 

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension thick between them, before Damen said, “The men dragged me to their castle. I was given to the human Prince as a gift.”

“What was he like?” Lykaios asked. 

“He was cruel,” Damen said, and Laurent resisted the urge to shy from him. “He was angry with my kind, and I was an easy target. He had his men lock me away. I think he intended to kill me.”

“And then what happened?” a dryad asked. 

“And then I met Laurent.”

Surprised, Laurent raised his head and met his eyes. Damen stared at him with approval, and his smile made Laurent feel proud that he had proven him wrong. 

“He broke my chains and set me free.”

The dryads stared at Laurent with newfound respect and amazement. 

“You were so brave, Laurent,” Lykaios said. 

“Yes,” Laurent admitted for the first time since that night. “I was.” 

Damen’s shoulder brushed against his own. “In return, I promised Laurent I’d help him find his brother. That’s why we’re here, actually. We think a fairy might know what happened to him. Do you know of any that live here?”

An unsettling silence settled over the dryads. It was Lykaios who spoke. 

"Yes, we know of one," she said and shared a nervous glance with the others. "Many years ago, a fairy chased us from our home. The last we heard, it is hers, now."

“How do we reach your home?” Damen asked. 

“The river Seraine cuts through the heart of these woods. Follow the river downstream, and after many miles, you’ll come upon the place where the river splits into two. Take the eastern branch, and find the place where it ends— a waterfall, which we once called home. There, you will find your fairy.”

"Thank you," Laurent said, sincerely.

“Be careful, Laurent. It is not wise to seek a fairy that does not want to be found.” 

Apprehension prickled underneath his skin, and he instantly reached out to touch the hilt of his sword.

“We’ll be careful,” Damen promised. “We'll leave at first light.”


End file.
